Shining Through: Red Hot Russians, #5

By Elizabeth Harmon

The Biggest Season of Her Career...

America’s sweetheart Tabitha Turner is on track to win figure-skating gold in the Winter Games. Her family has sacrificed everything for her career, but the pressure is taking its toll. Burned out and living a lie, can Tabitha let off a little steam without melting the ice?

The Last Chance of His…

Russia’s bad boy of skating Daniil Andreev is determined to prove the toughest thing about him is his competitive fight. When Tabitha tempts him to help her take a secret walk on the wild side, he gives her a taste of the freedom she craves, never expecting that one unforgettable night could turn into something more.

Two Hearts on Thin Ice…

Chicago, Vancouver, Paris… the international figure skating season unfolds. Tabitha and Daniil compete and fall in love, but as the pressure mounts in a make-or-break season, can they set aside their painful pasts and spiral into a shining future together… or will their dreams shatter like thin ice?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Harmon
• Release date: Dec 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386487746

Elizabeth Harmon

Contemporary romance author Elizabeth Harmon loves to read and write romances with a dash of different. A graduate of the University of Illinois, she has worked in advertising, community journalism and as a freelance magazine writer. She feels incredibly blessed to have a career that allows her to spend her days imagining “what if?” and a loving family that keeps her grounded in the real world.  Her debut novel, Pairing Off, the first book in her Red Hot Russians sports romance series, is a 2016 RITA® Award Finalist. An adventurous cook, vintage home enthusiast, occasional actress, and entry-level figure skater, Elizabeth makes her home in the Midwest, where life is good, but the sports teams aren’t. She loves to hang out on her front porch, or at her favorite local establishments, enjoy good food and wine, and talk writing with anyone who will listen. 

Book preview

Books by Elizabeth Harmon

Pairing Off

Turning It On

Getting It Back

Heating It Up: A Red Hot Russians Novella

Shining Through

CHAPTER ONE

Flawless.

The hairstylist for Good Day U.S.A! cupped her hands beneath Tabitha Turner’s sleek, straight hair. Like so much else in Tabitha’s life, it was golden, perfect and completely manufactured.

You’ve done a wonderful job. Tabitha flicked her tongue across lips the precise ruby shade as her fingernails. As a champion figure skater, she’d been groomed from childhood to know perfect was the only description that mattered. Thank you.

The stylist shrugged off the compliment, though her smile showed it pleased her. It’s easy when I start with a beautiful client. Everyone’s so psyched to see you win gold in Grenoble.

In the chair beside Tabitha’s, Mia Lang shifted her gaze over, then back. The chill was palpable. Here was one person not psyched to see Tabitha win gold in Grenoble.

The Winter Games are still six months off, Tabitha said. First, I need a winning season. But the support of the great people I’ve met means so much.

The words rolled easily off her tongue, and though they were true, she’d said them so often that she wondered if anyone believed her.

Well, everyone I know is pulling for you. You’ve worked so hard for it. Not that you haven’t, she added with a nod at Mia. She glanced at the girl who sat alone in the back of the room, waiting her turn in the chair. Or you, Antoinette! Boy, everyone here is so proud to watch a hometown girl make her debut this weekend as a top-level figure skater!

Actually, it’s my second season skating at senior level, Antoinette said. But it’s my first year competing in the International Series, so I am excited about that.

Her cool tone suggested this wasn’t the first time she was dismissed as an afterthought. Tabitha knew the feeling all too well. It had been the fuel that propelled her from obscurity to the top of her sport.

Mia smoothed her hand over her already perfect dark hair and beamed with the easy confidence that came with being the latest phenom. Hey, we get it. Tabitha’s the queen and we’re the princesses. But don’t count us out.

Tabitha definitely wasn’t.

The stylist added a heavy layer of hairspray to subdue Tabitha’s natural waves under the melting heat of TV studio lights. The assistant show-runner bustled into the dressing room. Cleavon Riggs raised his hand to his forehead in a comically over-the-top swoon, before belting out the opening line of Isn’t She Lovely? His Stevie Wonder impression was heavy on the falsetto. They both look fabulous! You two can come with me while Annette takes her turn in the chair.

It’s Antoinette. The girl rose from her seat and approached Tabitha’s chair. But you’ll know my name soon enough.

Tabitha pushed her face into a bright confident smile. She hadn’t become one of the top figure skaters in the world by worrying about who was nipping at her heels. The stylist removed the plastic cape covering her clothes, and Tabitha stood, smoothing her off-the-shoulder red silk t-shirt and skin-tight True Religion jeans. A red and lavender scarf and lavender stilettos balanced elegant and trendy. But not too trendy. No one would suspect she’d paid less than a hundred bucks for the entire outfit at the West Hollywood Goodwill. She tossed her hair against her shoulders and gave Cleavon a serene smile. I’m ready.

Cleavon directed Tabitha and Mia through the maze-like corridors to the sound stage. I assume your coaches and your agents have briefed you on the interview topics?

Tabitha nodded. First, they’ll ask what we’re doing to prepare for the season, then we’ll talk about how excited we are to compete this weekend at Star Spangled Skate.

Be sure to mention how close all of you girls are, Cleavon added.

Girls. The word set her teeth on edge. Tabitha was twenty-three, a woman trying to compete in a sport dominated by teenagers like Mia, who’d enjoyed advantages she never had. Teenagers who weren’t staring down the barrel of their final season and their last chance to fulfill a dream.

Mia laughed. Never mind that seven of us are competing to be the three who skate in Grenoble.

Eight, counting Antoinette, Tabitha added. But it never comes up at all at our weekly slumber and pedicure parties.

Where had that come from? The snarky comment sounded like something her sister Samara might say. Mia gaped, either with shock or amusement, Tabitha wasn’t sure. Cleavon blinked; alarmed that he might have missed a fascinating interview topic. You have those?

We’re spread out all over the country, Mia responded. It’s a little hard to get together.

They reached the brightly lit studio, where two sleek, orange couches sat before a backdrop that suggested a window looking out onto the Chicago skyline. Majestic buildings gleamed against the cloudless blue sky of a perfect late September day. Techs bustled around, adjusting lights and the lapel mics worn by the show’s hosts. An exuberant voice greeted them.

All rightie! Whooooo’s next? Peter Flanagan approached, rubbing his hands together. His trademark paisley bowtie added a jaunty note to his conservative dark gray suit. Oh goodness, don’t you look amazing! And tall! In her four inch heels, Tabitha was the same height as her coach. He turned to Cleavon. I knew she would be a tall one, but such lines. Such beautiful, beautiful lines. If I know one thing, it’s how to spot skating talent! Have I ever said that?

A time or two, Tabitha said fondly. Peter had his quirks, but he’d taken her into his coaching group when she was fifteen, after every other top coach had written her off as too old. In the eight years since, he’d never given up on her. And it will be our year, right?

Absolutely, my dear. Absolutely.

Tabitha, dear. Lovely to see you again, said Claudia Davis, Mia’s coach.

Lovely to see you too. Tabitha returned the air kiss and social hug of one of the coaches who’d passed on her. Claudia moved onto Antoinette and her coach.

The frenetic energy around the set indicated air time was just a few minutes away. Celeste Fields, a striking black woman in a lemon yellow dress, greeted them and directed Tabitha, Mia and Antoinette to sit beside her. Co-host Michael Connor, who was shorter and older than Tabitha had expected, sat with the coaches. A technician attached their microphones, and moments later the house lights dimmed. With a blare of the show’s peppy theme song, they were on the air.

After introducing the skaters and showing clips of each competing, Celeste turned to Tabitha. You’ve been training as a skater, since you were what? Seven? Eight?

I started skating when I was six, but it wasn’t until I was twelve that I became serious about competing.

Celeste smiled. We hear you were so determined, you went to the rink manager and promised to work every night until midnight to pay for your ice time.

Tabitha’s cheeks grew hot, and it wasn’t from the lights. The story was well known, and unlike much of her official biography, it was true. Peter thought it showed her early determination, but it also brought back the desperation she’d felt to hold onto the only area of her life where she had any control. Though her memories of that day were more embarrassing than inspiring, she laughed along with the others. I think I kind of shocked them.

I think they saw a future champion, added Michael. At nineteen, you were this close to skating in the Winter Games, but fell short. Now at twenty-three, you’re the top skater in a very competitive U.S. ladies’ field!

Tabitha bobbed her head to acknowledge the studio audience’s polite applause. She’d worked damn hard to earn it.

Since only three skaters will qualify for Grenoble, how does that impact the relationships among you girls?

Inside, Tabitha cringed. No one would ask her male teammates something so ridiculous.

It doesn’t at all, Mia gushed, shifting the focus away from Tabitha. We’re super close and all the U.S. skaters are just amazing!

Well you’re certainly amazing! Just fifteen years old, and already a world medalist, said Celeste. And coached by the legendary Claudia Davis, who if I’m not mistaken is Peter’s ex-wife!

Laughter echoed in the studio though Tabitha failed to see the humor. Claudia’s smile twisted as if she’d just sucked on a lemon. Her coach’s neck reddened, but he hid his embarrassment with a good-natured chuckle. Well Celeste, you’ve certainly done your homework. Yes, Claudia and I were married several years ago. She is a talented coach for whom I have the utmost respect.

Silver-haired Claudia accepted the compliment with a satisfied smile.

She’s had an amazing run of success at the Winter Games with three skaters taking home the gold? Celeste’s expression grew serious. That’s something that’s eluded you, and now in your final season as a coach, you’re giving it one more try. She pressed her hand to her heart. That just gets me, right here.

A story perfect for Hollywood, Michael added, as the trumpet fanfare from the Rocky theme song played, accompanied by cheers and applause from the audience.

And contender Antoinette Curtis is ready to jump in the ring and mix it up with the champs! He threw a one-two air punch. Antoinette, you once spoke about the mindset of a champion. Can you share a bit about what that means?

Oh yes, said Antoinette. It means committing myself to whatever it takes to be the best. That means working hard, sacrificing and putting in the effort, even when it’s the last thing in the world you feel like doing.

Passion rose in Antoinette’s voice, and Tabitha fought the urge to rub the goosebumps that rose on her arms. This scrappy underdog had described what Tabitha once felt about her skating. Only she didn’t any longer.

Why not? And how do you get that passion back?

Celeste smiled. I can’t imagine skating is ever the last thing any of you feel like doing! And your off-ice lives are just as impressive. Tabitha, tell us about Harvard!

Tabitha blinked and her stomach rolled. Though she’d expressed interest in the school, the closest she’d come was an online no-credit literature class. That didn’t make her a Harvard student by a long shot. She’d never even set foot on the campus. I’m not—

Not enrolled at the moment, Peter interjected. Because her focus right now is on the Winter Games. But once she retires from competing, she’ll return to her studies.

And we know she’ll excel, added Michael. Pre-med isn’t it?

She bit back a laugh at the idea that she was a champion athlete who studied organic chemistry in her free time. Her manufactured persona had some outlandish qualities, but then, so did her real one. While the dishonesty bothered her, Peter insisted it was part of projecting a polished, wholesome image. She responded with a non-committal smile. I’m still deciding.

CHAPTER TWO

When the segment ended, and the show broke for commercials, Cleavon came to escort the skaters and their coaches back to the Green Room.

Fiona Turner came over and embraced Tabitha. Oh honey, I’m so proud of you. The best damn skater in the whole US of A, and you look gorgeous, to boot!

So do you Mom. The blue and white sleeveless dress Peter’s assistant chose during yesterday’s shopping trip to Neiman-Marcus complimented Fiona’s autumn-red hair, and covered the large Yin and Yang tattoo on her right shoulder. Fiona would have chosen something that showed more cleavage.

Yeah, I clean up good for an old carny gal. Tabitha hoped Cleavon hadn’t overheard the carny gal comment. Peter had declared certain topics off-limits, Fiona’s unconventional background being one. Where’s Samara?

I don’t know. Tabitha felt a stir of uneasiness. Isn’t she with you?

Fiona’s mouth pinched with worry. I haven’t seen her. ‘Course I’m not exactly her favorite person right now. Fiona and Samara had been arguing for days over her sister’s loser, wanna-be rock star boyfriend. That Danté was the mirror image of Fiona’s loser, wanna-be rock star boyfriends wasn’t lost on Tabitha. She could be anywhere, said Fiona. She’d better not have gone far, or else she’s grounded ‘til she’s thirty. If you see her, tell her I said so!

You can tell me yourself, though twenty-one’s a little old for grounding. Samara strolled in, munching a cinnamon-sugar doughnut from the craft service table out in the hall. In a thrift-shop schoolgirl skirt, holey fishnets and crimson motorcycle boots, she was the polar opposite of Tabitha. Mmmm, yummy. Too bad you can’t have one, she said with a teasing smirk.

Yeah too bad, Tabitha said, though she could take or leave doughnuts. Chocolate however, was another story.

Where the hell were you? With Samara safe and sound, Fiona could return to being mad.

One of the show runners heard I was in film school, so she took me upstairs to watch from the director’s booth.

That was hopeful news. As much as Fiona disliked Danté, Tabitha was more concerned about her sister’s inability to focus on anything. Part of it was the Attention Deficit Disorder, which remained undiagnosed until Samara’s junior year of high school. After graduation, she dabbled as a student hairstylist, a barista and movie extra, until finally, she had pursued her dream of becoming a filmmaker. Last year, she’d been accepted into the University of Southern California’s prestigious cinema studies program. But lackluster grades were putting the dream in jeopardy.

Tabitha couldn’t shake the fear that if her figure skating hadn’t demanded so much of her family’s time, money and attention, Samara’s problems would have been noticed much earlier. Her sister might be almost through with college by now and making contacts in the industry, rather than struggling with sophomore classes and a bad boyfriend. Did you learn anything? Tabitha asked.

Samara brushed the heavy fringe of blue-black bangs from her eyes. I learned I never want to work in TV. And I couldn’t believe it when Celeste brought up Peter’s ex, or he’s never had a skater win at the Winter Games. Who expects gotcha questions on a show like this? Talk about low.

Tabitha couldn’t agree more. I promise you, Peter’s bad luck at the Games ends this season.

Though there were countless things that could go wrong between now and February, the words brought certainty. She would win gold in Grenoble. She had to. Peter deserved it. And he wasn’t the only one. Samara had grown up as an afterthought. Fiona had worked two jobs so they could live in Beverly Hills near Tabitha’s training rink, rather than move back to her hometown in Missouri.

Her mom and her sister deserved a victory and Tabitha would not let them down.

She turned back to Samara, who was savoring the last of her donut, a blissful expression on her face as she chewed. How do you think I did on the show?

Her sister brushed cinnamon sugar from her hands, and headed back to the food table, in search of her next delicacy. Perfect. How else?

Outside, the real sky was considerably grayer than the fake one on Good Day U.S.A’s backdrop. Peter flagged down a taxi. Tabitha, Samara, and Fiona climbed in the back, while Peter took the front seat. Fiona’s phone had chimed earlier, now, she was scrolling through a message. Son of a bitch, she said under her breath.

That could only mean man troubles. Ken, Fiona’s current boyfriend, and also their landlord, seemed to cause more than his share.

Is the Ken-ster having issues? Samara asked with knowing sympathy.

Fiona gave an exasperated sigh and shut off her phone. He’s still pissed because I didn’t invite him along to Chicago. But it’ll all blow over by the time we’re home on Monday. He’s an Aries. What do you expect?

What did Tabitha expect? Heartbreak and disappointment, which seemed to come with every guy, regardless of his zodiac sign.

If she’d learned anything from Fiona’s and Samara’s chaotic love lives, it was that following your heart after a troubled bad boy was a recipe for disaster. Tabitha had sworn off romance. If the day ever came when she let a man into her life, he would be neither troubled, nor would he have issues. But with the Winter Games coming up, it wasn’t something she thought about.

Not much, anyway.

Peter glanced back over his shoulder. I thought that went well.

Really? Even though they brought up Claudia? And Harvard? I didn’t know they would ask about that.

Peter flicked his hand, brushing off her concern. Things come out of left field. As this is my last season coaching, and Claudia coaches your closest rival, someone was bound to ask eventually. But next time someone mentions Harvard, don’t correct them.

This again. Tabitha sighed and crossed her arms. You know I don’t like lying about it.

You aren’t lying. Technically, you were enrolled.

Online, and for no credit. That’s a lot different from what you implied.

Trust me, dear. It’s best this way.

Samara was intent on her phone, scrolling through pages as if the rest of them weren’t even there. Her black polished fingernails made a tapping sound on the glass. I didn’t know Catwoman was a lesbian.

Not true. Fiona shook her head. Julie Newmar wasn’t a lesbian.

Samara scowled. Who’s Julie Newmar?

Catwoman. And by the way Missy, you didn’t bother to tell anyone where you were going during the show. For all I knew, you’d taken off for God-knows-where because you were pissed at me. How do you think I’d feel, knowing I’m the reason my baby girl wound up dead in a ditch someplace?

I told a page. He was supposed to tell you. It’s not my fault if he didn’t. Besides Fiona, I wasn’t talking about Julie Whoever. I was talking about Catwoman.

Tabitha rested her head against the seat. Though she was glad her family had come to see her skate, sometimes they made her crazy. She means the character, Mom.

That’s another thing! Riled up, Fiona turned on Samara. Your older sister calls me Mom, but you can’t even manage that.

To me, you’re Fiona, Samara said, with a shrug, staring at her phone again. Anyway, the director’s booth was sick and I’m not dead in a ditch, so you can relax. Shit’s under control. She returned to scrolling on her phone. Tap, tap, tap.

Tabitha closed her eyes, and wished she could return to her room for a nap, rather than head to practice. Last night, she’d hardly slept. They’d arrived late from California, and it felt like only a few hours later, she’d had to be up for her early call at the morning show. She never slept well in hotels. Come to think of it, lately, she didn’t sleep that great anywhere.

So. Peter clapped his hands together. Star Spangled Skate. We have two days to whip these programs into shape and Antigone still isn’t where it needs to be.

Tabitha pressed her lips together. The state of her long program was the elephant in the room. I have all the elements.

Except one, Peter said, quietly.

Passion. You’ve lost it and if the Winter Games aren’t enough to bring it back, what is?

I’m just not feeling Antigone. It’s too heavy, it’s too sad, it’s too... much.

It’s opera, Peter said. Not your favorite, I know.

I wanted to use the program Misha and I choreographed to the Hozier song. You said you liked it.

I like it, and it’s fine as your show program. Which it will stay. Contemporary music is a good fit for some skaters. A teenage girl, for example. Though he didn’t name names, everyone knew Mia Lang was using One Direction’s What a Feeling, for her short program. But it isn’t right for who you need to be on the ice. A piece like Antigone carries a gravitas that isn’t suitable for a fifteen-year-old but is perfect for a refined, sophisticated twenty-three-year-old Harvard student. He paused to let his point sink in. Is everyone straight on that?

By everyone, he meant the only person in the cab likely to challenge him. Fiona always took Peter’s side. Samara couldn’t care less. Tabitha stared out the window. On the sidewalk, people passed by, free to go where they wanted, and do what they pleased. Would that ever be her life?

She glanced over at Fiona, who’d cleaned houses and served hot dogs to pay for Tabitha’s ice costs. She thought of Samara, who’d spent her childhood being dragged along to Tabitha’s competitions, while her needs were ignored. Her family had sacrificed so much to give her this chance. Three years ago, she’d let them down. Not this time. She turned back to her coach and nodded. Everyone’s straight.

A snicker came from the other side of the back seat. Everyone except Catwoman.

CHAPTER THREE

New Castle County, Delaware

Outside Courtroom Six, Daniil Andreev stared at the muted television in the waiting area. A cheerful American mother was serving breakfast sausages to her delighted family. Their happy faces only deepened the relentless throb of Daniil’s misery.

Ilya Zaikov sat down in the molded plastic seat next to Daniil. Are you all right, Dan’ka?

The name was what a father might call his son. Though Ilya was one of Daniil’s figure skating coaches, and not his father, he cared a lot more than the real one did.

Why wouldn’t I be? Daniil kept his voice low, though they were speaking Russian, and it wasn’t likely anyone nearby could understand them. The lawyer says even if everything goes to hell, the worst I’ll get is ninety days in jail.

As far as Daniil’s skating season was concerned, ninety days was a death sentence.

I have faith the judge will show mercy, Ilya said. His voice held certainty Daniil wished he shared. Once you explain you didn’t intend to steal the motorcycle, and the person you thought was the owner gave you permission to ride, he’ll see it was a simple misunderstanding.

Too bad that person is in Australia, Daniil said. And without her to prove I’m telling the truth, will the judge believe me? The Bad Boy of Russian Figure Skating? His mouth twisted around the nickname he’d once enjoyed living up to.

The courtroom door opened and a thick-wasted woman in a blue uniform barked several names into the waiting room. Daniil tensed, then relaxed. His name wasn’t one of them. Yet. But his knack for finding trouble was about to deliver the fatal blow to everything he and his coaches had worked toward. You and Anton did so much for me. Now it’s all for nothing.

Not nothing. Ilya’s gaze seemed to bore into him. We see the good man you are. Others will see it, too.

Like that would happen. Daniil pushed himself up and into motion, pacing the floor, consumed with the familiar urge to escape. He couldn’t bear to look Ilya in the eye, but there was nowhere to go. He stared at the floor, seeing nothing.

If I get out of this without jail time... I swear to God, no more screw ups.

A flash of bright golden light drew his gaze upward. On the TV, the colorful linked rings of the upcoming Grenoble Winter Games splashed across the screen. They faded and were replaced by a view of a competition